


The Stranger (Demon!Dean x Reader)

by deanwanddamons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon!Dean, Dirty Dean Winchester, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Oral Sex, Reader Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Supernatural - Freeform, Unprotected Sex, cock riding, pussy licking, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfic - Freeform, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwanddamons/pseuds/deanwanddamons
Summary: Demon!Dean turns up in the bar you work in. You are drawn to him, but can’t work out why.
Relationships: Demon Dean - Relationship, Reader - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	The Stranger (Demon!Dean x Reader)

It was a busy Saturday night at the bar you worked in. The room was crowded and you had been going about your shift as usual. You had only been working at the bar for two months. Your 21st birthday was only four months ago, and you had taken the job to help pay for your college tuition.

When you had turned to serve a customer, the stool in front you had been empty. As you spun back around to place the order on the bar, you realised the seat was now taken. It was almost as if the incredibly handsome stranger had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

He sat there in silence, staring at his clasped hands in front of him. He didn’t attempt to get your attention, didn’t try to catch your eye. Nothing.

Your colleague had asked what he would like to order but got no response. Turning to you, she gestured with her eyes towards him and shrugged. You mimicked her movements and continued serving the customers around him. Other patrons had come to order drinks and had seemingly attempted to engage him in conversation, but he had blatantly ignored each and every one of them.

Eventually, he raised his head. His expression was blank and emotionless. Looking towards you, he slapped a $50 bill down onto the bar. Moving slowly towards him, you picked up the bill and placed it in the register.

“What can I get you?” you questioned.

“Bourbon. And keep it coming.”

The request was barely audible over the music coming from the jukebox. Wiping your hands on the rag you had thrown over your shoulder, you poured the amber liquid into a glass and placed it in front of him.

He brought the shot glass up to his lips and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. He slammed the tumbler back down and almost grunted at you, leaning his head towards the bottle.

“Another?” you asked.

He didn’t respond, just glared up at you. The look in his forest green eyes caused ice to run through your veins. It seemed like he was staring directly into your soul. He blinked, and when his eyes opened you could have sworn they were jet black. But as he blinked again, the black was gone and they were back to the original forest green. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, so you poured more of the alcohol into the glass and backed away, leaving the bottle within his reach so he could help himself.

You continued serving and going about your business, glancing over at the handsome stranger now and again. He hardly moved. The only motion coming from his direction was the other people moving around him, and his arm lifting the glass to his lips or pouring himself another shot.

He remained in the same position for at least the next two hours, completely oblivious of any movement around him. Every now and then he would get jostled by the crowd around him, but he showed no reaction, and the liquor seemed to be having no effect on him, even though he had managed to drink almost the whole bottle.

As time went on, the room started to empty. Eventually, there were only four guys playing pool, you, and the mysterious stranger left.

Walking out from behind from the bar, you picked up a tray and began moving around the room, collecting empty glasses and wiping tables. Even though the man hadn’t done anything to concern you, your natural instinct carried on reminding you to not allow yourself to forget he was there. The manner in which he had suddenly appeared, and not engaged in any conversation, worried you. His demeanour was odd, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on the waves of menace that he seemed to emit.

One of the guys who had been playing pool, stumbled towards the bar, clearly a little worse for wear. Your colleague had finished her shift and gone home, so there was no one taking orders as you were still collecting glasses.

“Service!” he hollered. “Can I get some fucking service around here!?” the words came out slurred.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” you shouted over your shoulder in the direction of the voice.

“I want a drink now!” the pool player demanded, slamming his hands down on the bar.

Before you could react, the sound of a stool scraping across the floor caught your attention. The mysterious stranger had moved from his position, the chair he had been sitting on now laying on the ground. Frozen to the spot, your eyes followed him as he approached the drunk. Snatching the pool cue from the intoxicated man’s hand, the stranger in the red shirt brought it down on to the bar, snapping it in half. He kicked the drunk's legs from under him, causing him to land on the floor on his back, the sound of his breath leaving his lungs through his open mouth loud in the now relatively quiet room. The piece of wood that used to be a pool cue was brought up to his neck, large hands either end of it, pinning him to the sticky surface.

“If you want a drink, I suggest you ask nicely,” a deep, menacing voice echoed around the room.

In a flash, the pool players' buddies were on the stranger, pulling at his arms to try and release their friend. Even though it was two on one, he was stronger than both of them, easily flipping them both off him with a shrug of his broad shoulders. His foot took the place of the pool cue on the man's neck as he flipped one end of the cue under the chin of one of his attackers and brought the other end across the cheekbone of his friend.

They both staggered back, blood pouring from the chin of the man on the right, the jagged end of the wood having created a large gash in his flesh. As the tall figure shifted, the man on the floor managed to wriggle out from under his foot, pushing himself back towards the wall. Getting to his feet, he grabbed each of his buddies by the arm and pulled them towards the door, the group stumbling as they retreated. With one last glance over his shoulder, he shouted “You’re a fucking psycho” at the stranger, and they all hurried through the door, letting it slam shut behind them.

This all happened in an instant. The whole time, your feet were moulded to the floor, the rag in your hand still resting on the table in front of you. The scene that had played out in front of you had caused you to freeze, your limbs refusing to move. Your eyes were forced open, staring at the man in the red shirt.

Now the group had left, it was only you and him remaining in the bar. He started walking towards you, his approach snapping you out of your frozen state, as a feeling of fear washed over you. You took a few steps back as he got closer to you, your heels meeting the edge of the small stage that was situated at the back of the room. You stumbled backward, your knees giving way and your ass hit the edge as you dropped to the ground.

He loomed over you as he held out his hand but you shrank back from his gesture, pushing yourself further away from him.

“Sweetheart, let me help you up,” the man said, his proffered hand reaching for you, as you skittered back even further.

Even in your heightened state of anxiety, there was no denying this man was exceptionally good looking. He was around 35, tall and broad. His hair was light brown with a slight side parting, the front a little longer than the back, swept up and over to the right. His blue jeans showed off his bow legs perfectly, the black t-shirt under the dark red shirt was tight-fitting, the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow, an unusual tattoo visible on the inside of his right arm.

As he dropped down to his haunches in front of you to match your height, he cocked his head to the side, a small smirk forming on his plump, pink lips. Resting his hands on his knees, he looked you straight in the eyes.

“Do I scare you?” he asked, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he was talking to a terrified animal. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes they were pools of black, as black as the darkest night.

You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth yet, you continued to look into them. They were somehow hypnotic, drawing you in, not allowing you to look away. To your complete surprise, a bolt of arousal coursed through you. There was something extremely menacing and vicious about this man, yet something completely mesmerising.

He closed his eyes briefly. The spell he had seemingly cast over you weakened, and when he opened them again, they were back to the beautiful green of before. Your voice came out strained.

“Who are you?” you croaked.

“The name is Dean,” he said, as you reached up at him, allowing him to take your hand and pull you to your feet. As soon as his skin met yours, you could feel the static energy coming off him.

As he pulled you up, you lost your footing, stumbling towards him. As he was head and shoulders taller than you, your forehead collided with his hard chest. Embarrassment flooded you, so you allowed yourself to stay in that position for a few seconds. In truth, that wasn’t the only reason you stayed there. His scent was intoxicating. It seemed to fill your senses, flooding your nostrils. Your arms were limp by your sides, but you had a desperate need to wrap them around him. It was almost impossible to ignore the compulsion, but gathering all the strength you could muster, you pushed away from him.

However, this was not what he wanted you to do. His large hands gripped your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. Releasing your right shoulder, he brought his hand up to your face. Placing the tips of his fingers under your chin, he raised your head until your eyes met his. Slowly, he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a brief, light kiss. His mouth moved across your cheek, stopping when he got to the shell of your ear.

“I do scare you,” he whispered, “but you enjoy it. Am I right, sweetheart?”

Your head began to nod before you even had a chance to register what he had said. It felt like you were in a trance, that you were not in control of your own actions.

“You are fascinated by me aren’t you? Wondering not only who I am, but what I am. Correct?”

Once again, your head began to nod under its own volition. It was only when your back hit the wall, did you realise that your feet had been moving as he spoke. Dean raised his hands so that his palms were against the cement either side of your body, caging you in. His head dropped until it was resting on your shoulder and you were shocked to feel his warm tongue lick a trail up the outside of your neck.

An involuntary moan escaped your lips. You weren't sure if you were disgusted or delighted by the feeling rushing through your body. The pool of desire that flooded your panties and the fact your nipples began to tingle gave you the answer. You had never been more turned on in your life. This was completely new to you. You certainly weren’t a virgin and you were far from a shrinking violet, but to allow a complete stranger who had hardly said two words to you, lick your neck, and for you to enjoy it as much as you were, was not part of your usual routine.

“You like that, huh?” Dean asked, his breath fanning across your skin. His teeth nipped at your ear lobe, as his hands travelled down the side of your body.

“Uh huh,” was all the sound you could make. His hands gripped your hips, and as he took a step back he flipped you around so you were now facing the wall. Moving your hair away from the base of your neck, he nibbled at your pulse point, moving along your shoulder, tasting your skin with the tip of his tongue. Pushing your body back against him, you could tell that he was as turned on as you. You could feel his hard length through the denim of his jeans on your bare leg as he pushed his hips forward and rutted himself against you. His hands pushed under your skirt, and he hooked his fingers into your panties, rubbing them along the waistband. You leaned your head back against him, your breath coming in short gasps.

Suddenly, the warmth you had felt against your back was gone. The cold breeze that now brushed along your spine brought you to your senses a little. Smoothing down your skirt, which had ridden up when Dean had teased you, you turned away from the wall quickly, noticing that he had walked over to the jukebox and was feeding coins into the machine. Flicking through the tunes, he made his choice. ‘Black Velvet’ by Alannah Miles started playing. Moving across the floor, he headed towards the front door. You heard the bolt slide across it, the metallic clunk loud, even over the music that was playing softly in the background. You watched him as he made his way over to the bar, and casually poured himself another glass of bourbon. He leaned on the bar and took a sip of his drink.

“Come. Join me,” he said, brandishing his glass towards you.

The rational side of your brain knew you shouldn’t encourage him, especially after seeing how violent he had been earlier. You were alone with him, he had just locked you in, he was obviously dangerous and he had presumed it was okay to lick your neck. But the irrational side was reminding you how turned on you had been when he had caged you in against the wall, and how just the touch of his hand had sent sparks across your skin. You could be in all kinds of trouble if you took him up on his offer, but it was not everyday someone as intriguing as him came into your life, clearly wanting to get to know you better.

On shaking legs, you moved towards him. It felt like you were walking through water. You didn’t understand the effect this man was having on you, but it was if he had a string attached to you, and was pulling you forward.

He pushed the barstool toward you with his foot, tapping on it lightly with his hand, the gesture almost demanding you to sit. As you obeyed, he leaned over the bar, reaching underneath, bringing forward another glass. He poured two fingers worth of liquor into it, and deftly slid it over the surface to your waiting hand. You caught it, and took a small sip, the liquid burned slightly as the woody flavour hit your tongue.

“So, Dean,” you began, warming your throat once more with the beverage. “How come I haven’t seen you in here before?”

“Just passing through.” 

“On your way where?”

“Nowhere. Hell probably,” he chuckled. The sound, along with his choice of words, raised your anxiety levels further.

“You think you're going to hell?” you asked, curiosity loosening your tongue.

“I know I am, darling. You saw my eyes. You’re wondering what I am. You’re wondering why you feel inexplicably drawn to me,” he turned away from you, picking up a chair that was behind him, carrying it over next to you and sitting down as he continued. “You’re curious as to why I suddenly appeared in this bar, in the middle of nowhere.” He picked up his drink, draining the glass before pouring another. He held the bottle out to you so you knocked back the remaining liquid and allowed him to pour you another shot.

“I did notice the way your eyes changed colour,” you told him, surprised by your honesty.

“I’m a demon. A knight of hell,” he explained casually as though you were discussing nothing more interesting than the weather. “And you want me to fuck you.”

He announced this last statement just as you took a large gulp of bourbon. You managed to swallow it without choking, but the sting of the alcohol forced you to cough, the burn bringing tears to your eyes.

“I’m sorry. Was that a little bold?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement, a wicked smirk pulling at his perfect lips.

“I was just not expecting it,” you stuttered, the incredulity obvious in your voice.

“I just told you I’m a demon and you didn’t flinch. And when I said you wanted me to fuck you, you didn’t say no,” he pointed out, sucking in his bottom lip with his teeth. He was right. You hadn’t said no, as you did want him to fuck you. You were still confused as to why he seemed to have a hold over you.

He rose from his seat and walked over to the pool table leaving you sitting there, your brain desperately trying to make sense of what he just said. He had told you he was a demon. What exactly did he mean by that, and why didn’t this worry you?

“Shall we play?” he asked, interrupting your musing. He began setting up the table, picking up the triangle and putting it in its space, gathering the pool balls together and holding a cue out to you. “I won’t break this one I promise,” he smiled, showing off perfect white teeth, and causing wrinkles to form around his eyes.

Fuck. He was so gorgeous. A thought hit you out of the blue, completely shocking you. There was no way you could let him leave without having had him inside you. Where the fuck did that come from? It was so completely unlike you. It felt like you had been taken over by another being. Possessed even. You realised you needed him, like you needed water. You clenched your thighs together as a wave of pleasure flowed through you. Nodding, you rose from your chair, and picked up the two glasses and the bottle of bourbon, and walked towards him.

“But,” he continued, as he leaned over the table, preparing to break “let’s make it interesting. I win, I get to do whatever I want to you. You win, you do whatever you want to me. Deal?”

“Deal,” you heard yourself say, the words almost falling out of your mouth in your haste to agree.

He didn’t say a word. He just looked up at you from his position, cue in hand, that smirk of the devil spreading across his face, one eyebrow raising slightly.

The sound of the break echoed around the room. He potted a striped ball, then proceeded to pot every other striped ball in succession, and finally, potted the black. You just stood there, watching, quite unable to believe what just happened. You had not even had one shot.

“You hustled me,” you complained, a pout forming on your lips.

Dean put his cue down and shifted the position of a stool that was nearby, to place it next to the shorter end of the pool table. “It’s a talent of mine,” he told you, as he sat down, his shoulders resting against the edge. “And I have many others. Want me to show you?” He patted his thick thighs with his palms inviting you over to him.

You couldn’t quite believe you were about to do this, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was getting even harder to resist as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, and lowered yourself down on his lap. As your knees bent and you got closer to fully sitting on him, his tongue snaked out from between his lips, and he brought it up to your neck. He licked a path up your skin, over your chin, finding your mouth. As he traced the outline of your lips, your chest hitched, the taste of the bourbon still evident on his hot breath. He kissed you deeply, his hands reaching around your waist to bring you in tighter to him. Your legs came up and wrapped around his back as the pull of him got even stronger, his tongue invading your mouth.

The pool of arousal that had formed in your panties was back with a vengeance. Your skirt had rucked up to rest on your hips that were now grinding into him, the shape of his hardening cock rubbing against the material of his jeans, the pressure against your clothed mound, delicious. His mouth left yours as he lifted the hem of your ‘Bourbon Room’ cropped T-shirt, bringing it over your head, and throwing it to the ground. Leaning back, you arched your shoulders away from him, his strong arms helping you with your balance.

Suddenly, he was standing with you still wrapped around him, your weight no problem for him. He turned, dropping you down on the pool table, pushing your knees apart before stepping in between them. His calloused palms ran up the outside of your legs, fingers curling around the sides of your panties as he tugged at them. You lifted your ass slightly to allow him to drag them down your legs, removing them completely and discarding them over his shoulder.

Holding your knees apart, he stepped back to admire your glistening pussy. He sucked his bottom lip in with his teeth, the action causing a shiver to run down your spine and you physically felt a trickle of arousal slide down your thigh onto the green felt beneath you. A feeling of shame and desire waged a secret battle in your lust filled mind. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, that is was wrong and against all your usual morals, but the need for him to fuck you was irresistible.

“Turn over, on your knees,” he demanded, twisting his finger in a circular motion. You obeyed, the trance like state from before taking over your body. From your kneeling position you heard the stool he had placed near the edge of the wooden structure you were currently on creak as he sat down. Looking through your knees, you noticed he had leaned back, with his head on the pool table, looking up towards the ceiling.

“Sit,” he announced, pointing at his upturned face, the tone in his voice not allowing you to argue. You shuffled back slightly until your exposed sex was directly above him, his eyes black once again. A wave of terror shot through you, causing you to hesitate. Noticing your reluctance, he wrapped his hands around your thighs and guided you down to hover above him, not quite fully seated upon him. His hot, wet tongue shot out of his mouth, and licked a slow trail from your entrance to your clit. As he reached the tingling nub, he sucked it in.

The action expelled the breath from your lungs, forcing an involuntary ‘Holy fuck’ to fall from your lips and your legs to almost give way. You had no control over them as you almost slumped on top of him. Feeling him chuckle beneath you, he sucked on your bundle of nerves even harder, the tip of his tongue dancing over it. His right hand skimmed your thigh, over your ass cheek and he plunged two thick fingers deep into your soaked opening.

“Fuck, Dean. Fuck,” you mumbled, clenching around his digits as he pumped them into you.

The whole time his tongue was still swirling around your clit, sending pulse upon pulse of pleasure throbbing through it. You ground your hips down, needing more pressure. Realising this, he gripped his left arm around your thigh tighter, raising his head slightly to meet your needy slit. This movement shifted his finger tips, so they were rubbing against your walls in such a way that you thought you were going to explode. The elevated pressure on your nub was almost too much to bear. Your orgasm hit you so hard, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and you could have sworn you saw stars.

You heard him groan deeply, as your juices flowed over his mouth, the wetness spreading down his cheeks onto the material beneath him. Your hips stuttered as you chanted his name, not caring about anything else in that moment except the pure ecstasy flowing through every fibre of your being. You had never cum so hard in your life. Your forehead dropped down to meet the green fabric below you as you attempted to come down from your high. Dean lifted you a little as he manoeuvred beneath you. You rolled over onto your back, your skirt falling back into its original position, covering your modesty, although it had been thrown out of the window by now. You closed your eyes, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you stretched your arms out either side of you.

Feeling a presence at your feet, you opened your eyes to see Dean crawling up the table towards you. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you noticed his eyes had returned to their usual colour. When he reached you, he lay beside you, not saying a word. The only noise you could hear above your breathing was the sound of his belt buckle being loosened, then the zip of his jeans being pulled down and the shuffling of denim.

Turning your head towards him, you saw he was wriggling out his jeans. He threw them to the side when he had completely removed them, leaving him in a pair of tight boxers, his black T-shirt and red shirt. He raised himself up on his elbow, and stared at you.

“That was fun,” he said, reaching down to trace the outline of his hard cock which was evident through his shorts. “But I haven’t finished with you yet,” he growled. “You want me to fuck you, yes?”

Once again, you nodded, your head moving of its own accord. The need to have him inside you was overwhelming, so sitting up, you shifted over to him, your hand taking the place of his, your fingertips dancing over his solid dick, which was still housed in the confines of his underwear. He lay back down, flat on his back, lacing his hands beneath his head.

Gripping the band of his shorts, you pulled them down far enough to realise his rock hard erection. It was certainly impressive, the velvety tip pink and soft, the slit damp to the touch. As you climbed on top of him, he sat up, his arms wrapping around your waist, his face buried in your chest, mouth pressed against the valley between your tits. Using your hand, you guided him to your waiting entrance, pausing before you lowered yourself down, the sting of his entry making you hiss. The stretch felt divine, your walls clenching around him, until you were completely sat on him. He brought his knees up to rest against your back, as you began to rock, his cock hitting your G spot perfectly as you both moved. He sucked at a stiff nipple, as you ran your fingers through his short hair, his hands running up and down your back, his fingers finding your plait, tugging at it.

Using your knees as leverage, you bounced on his cock, your head thrown back as you lifted yourself off him, almost to the point of him not being inside you any more, then dropping back down, the tip of his dick hitting your cervix each time. He clawed at your hips, helping raise you up, then slamming you down as his thick thighs met the back of yours. The pressure in your stomach was back and you knew that he was going to make you cum again. His name fell incoherently from your lips, as you panted and swore, your nails digging into his shoulders. The dam was breaking and a few more of his rough thrusts were all it took for you to be spiralling.

Dean grunted under you and looked up into your face, just as your coil snapped. His eyes flew open, black as coal, his groans fierce, almost demonic in sound as his hips bucked. You clenched around him, milking his cock as he came. His head rested on your chest as you both attempted to reset your oxygen levels.

You both stayed in this position for a minute or so, until with no finesse at all, Dean lifted you off him, and unceremoniously dropped you down on the table. You looked at him, an expression of shock on your face. He rearranged his boxers and jumped off the table. Picking up all the clothes that had been discarded, he threw your panties and T-shirt at you, and began putting on his jeans.

Now feeling completely embarrassed, you slowly put your T-shirt back on, a ball of shame at your actions forming in the pit of your stomach.

He turned away from you, and began walking away towards the exit. Unlocking the door and with his hand on the handle, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Thank you…what was your name?”

“Y/N,” you answered, your voice coming out as a croak.

“See ya, Y/N.” He nodded, a satisfied smirk on his perfect features. “Thanks for satisfying the demon in me.”

He flashed his black eyes back at you before opening the door, and stepping out into the night. With that, he was gone.


End file.
